


Touch

by InsanityAtBest



Category: Låt den rätte komma in | Let the Right One In (2008)
Genre: F/F, Friendship, I don't know what I'm doing, No Oskar, Puppy Love, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 13:18:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3291743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanityAtBest/pseuds/InsanityAtBest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A touch can change everything. Oskar's father never touched alcohol so he never met Eli. Instead, there was Yulia who met Eli. Lonely, somehow Eli and Yulia eventually become friends. Yulia's bullies though torture her and with the death of her mother she feels like she's breaking. Can Eli's touch save Yulia?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Tale Told By Hands](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/96275) by Wolfchild. 



> “Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; Whole misadventured piteous overthrows Do with their death bury their parents' strife. The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, And the continuance of their parents' rage, Which, but their children's end, nought could remove, Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; The which if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.” -William Shakespeare

Yulia sat at the table stiff and tense like the porcelain doll her mother grew up with.

Both were unusually pale with small lips that formed into perfect pink Cupid's bows. Both had thick dark eyebrows and round eyes that seemed too large on their face. Their hair was dark and curly though Yulia's looked blue in certain lights and was longer. They even shared a button nose that tilted upwards at the tip.

There was only one difference between Yulia and the doll.

Yulia's naturally wide green eyes blinked.

At the moment, they were focused on the white table cloth that covered her father's mahogany table.

A freshly cut bouquet of flowers sat at the middle of the table ignored and forgotten in the upcoming winter.

Yulia's face angled downward at the table causing every ringlet to fall in her face like a black waterfall.

Across from her, Yulia's father Ralph sat equally silent.

He played with the remains of his pasta grey eyes focused on the sauce-covered strands.

Daughter and father seemed worlds apart and like roommates if not strangers.

The only thing they seemed to share was the same dark hair from his own father.

"I'm working late tonight. Remember to set your alarm."

His eyes never rose from his near empty plate.

Yulia didn't react.

It was as if she didn't hear him at all.

She thought of her late mother and how different life used to be.

She used to wake me up for school.

"Your hair's in front of your face again. I thought I got you more headbands. The world can't take you seriously until you show your face"

'Mom used to do my hair,' she thought tucking some of the long strands behind her ears. 'We used to sing and talk for hours just playing with it."

I wish she was here.

"Can't you say at least two words to me?"

Ralph's words were not pleading but seemed almost bored.

"Good night," Yulia tried to say back in Swedish but her voice is a little rough from disuse and Ralph rises.

He takes his time walking behind Yulia and places one large hand over her head.

"Good Yulia. How do you expect to get better if you don't talk?"

He pats it three times much like how'd you reward a dog.

Yulia exhales but has no other visible reaction.

Ralph grabs his coat on the way out.

"Remember to lock the door on the way out."

Yulia turns around and raises the golden key hanging from a matching chain around her neck without a word.

He shuts the door and Yulia relaxes.

She slowly rises from the table ignoring the dirty plates and starts heading to her room.

Yulia opens the door and heads towards her vanity.

The reddish brown surface shines in the artificial light but she makes no mind to it finger combing the length from her scalp to her developing chest.

Slowly the curls detangle and Yulia manages to finger comb it into a ponytail so she can see.

Yulia then walks toward her bed being mindful of the gauzy white fabric.

She lifts part of the full mattress and pulls out a pocket knife.

One slim finger caresses it as if it were a beloved child.

She imagines the look on Jonny's face if she would come up to him.

He would back up falling to the ground in fear.

His friends would run abandoning Jonny to her.

She could almost feel the satisfaction of seeing Jonny's eyes widen and his pupils dilate to her presence.

"Bitch? Whose the bitch now?"

Yulia mutters this darkly under her breath and tightens her grip on the knife.

"Scream. Isn't that what you tell me to do? Scream? Scream!"

The last word exists in a rush as she rapidly stabs the air.

As she finishes, the knife drops from her hands clattering on the wooden floor.

Yulia sharply flinches at the dull sound: a reminder of this 'game.'

"What have I done?"

Her voice heightens in fear and she tries to take a deep breath to calm down.

The black haired girl's quiver a little as she tries to breathe.

An almost nauseous feeling settles deep in the pit of her stomach and she wraps her thin arms around herself as if trying to make the fear disappear.

I wish Mom was here.

A image of a beautiful woman pops into her mind.

The woman smiles with perfectly straight teeth a couple shades lighter than her skin. The apples of her cheeks are a gentle pink like a rosette with matching small lips. Her hair is a bright golden blonde with the same curls as her daughter but it is her eyes that draw you in.

Like Granny Smith apples, they are light and bold but how could such a sour fruit compare to the adoration in Renae's stare?

I want my Mom.

It'd be different if she was here.

Yulia seems even smaller now as she tries to forget what she's just imagined and what she wants.

"I'm not a bad person. I just do bad things."

Yulia can almost hear her mother's voice repeating them with her and she closes her eyes.

The mantra does not lighten her heart but makes it easier to breathe.

"I'm not a bad person. I just do bad things."

Her voice slightly wavers as she repeats herself.

"I'm not a bad person. I just do bad things."

The last relaxes her enough for the sick feeling of fear to dissipate.

She sighs and leans forward grabbing the pocket knife on the floor.

Yulia carefully places it back under the mattress smoothing the sheets when she's done.

The house seems almost haunted in its silence and it gives Yulia a small shiver down her back.

She slowly rises and puts on the radio hearing a slow melody begin to travel through the apartment.

Her shoulders relax and even a small grin begins to surface breaking the apathetic mask.

She searches through her backpack and folders wrinkles as deft hands quickly find what she's looking for.

A worn copy of Romeo and Juliet is pulled from the bag with yellowing pages and dog eared pages.

If Yulia closes her eyes enough, she can almost smell her mother's favorite perfume.

Gently, she flips through the worn pages to the introduction.

Her voice is mellow and calm as she reads: a complete one eighty from five minutes prior.

“Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; Whole misadventured piteous overthrows Do with their death bury their parents' strife. The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, And the continuance of their parents' rage, Which, but their children's end, nought could remove, Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; The which if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.”

Yulia stops as she hears a car approach.

It's late enough that most people are already home from work and eating dinner not just coming home.

Yulia softly puts the book on the bed creating a tent shape as she curiously looks out the window to see what's going on.

A black car approaches crunching the snow in its with its headlights like cone shaped beacons of the night.

A man walks out the car and Yulia notes the slight hunch as he opens the door for someone.

A wife?

A friend?

Someone else walks out and Yulia's eyebrows furrow as she eyes the dark hair on the newcomer's head.

Daughter?

Son?

As the man goes to the trunk, Yulia watches the smaller newcomer walk past the squared jungle gym and she sees the small footprints in the snow.

Is that his son? Daughter?

Without thinking, a small pale hand rises to the ground as she looks at the newcomers.

A sense of longing hits and surprised at its unsought, she backs away retreating back to the bed.

Maybe I won't be so alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I know I already have so many other stories to update but this story won't leave me alone! Review please and let me know what you think!
> 
> P.S. I don't own Let The Right One In or Romeo and Juliet even if you will the quotes here.


End file.
